Ticking
by KnittedSweater
Summary: "Five minutes until he felt the rough, brown rope, scrape his neck. Five minutes until he waited in anticipation for the floor to drop from under him. Five minutes until they saw his body dangle, choked and lifeless." A little cursing, rated T more for the idea of the fic, if you get what I'm saying.


**Here's another story! I dunno, I was in the mood for writing this after reading chapter 34. I honestly don't know what led me to write this. Blargh. I need to start writing happy stuff. Too many negative emotions.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ao No Exorcist/Blue Exorcist.**

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**Ticking**

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes left to live. Ten minutes until death. Ten minutes until eternal blackness.

They dragged him by his collar, choking him and making him get burns from the rough carpet. This was nothing, though, compared to how lonely and miserable he'd felt over the last week.

When they first took him, they drugged him and plopped him in a cell far from the city. Honestly, he thought the drugs were a bit over the top. He would've complied with them anyways. An order from the Vatican could never be overturned until the Grigory said. Grigory, Grigory, _Grigory._ Fuck the Grigory. They didn't know anything. They didn't know _shit._

One day, maybe the fourth or fifth, he had visitors. He wasn't eating. He wasn't talking. He just sat there. If he wasn't just sitting there, he was biting and scraping his skin, drawing blood. By then, he'd gotten skinnier and pale. His hair was matted with body oil, dirt, and the obvious blood from his self-punishment. Ashamed of his appearance, he bowed his head and stared at their shoes, barely listening to their concerned voices.

What did they care? They _abandoned_ him. They pushed him _away._ It was better if he died like this, right? It would make the world such a better place. Konekomaru wouldn't be so scared. Yukio wouldn't be ridden with keeping up with his antics. Everything would just be _better._

Eight minutes.

Eight minutes until the noose tightened around his neck. Eight minutes until he saw their faces, actually caring for him. Eight minutes until a better world was born.

The things he remembered most were Yukio's desperate voice, pleading with him to talk, Shiemi's tears hitting the cold cement, Konekomaru practically chanting that he was sorry, and Izumo demanding that he look her in the eye.

It seemed like whenever you were faced with a terrible situation, people actually started to care. Even people you know hated you in every way.

_How ironic._

Five minutes.

Five minutes until he felt the rough, brown rope, scrape his neck. Five minutes until he waited in anticipation for the floor to drop from under him. Five minutes until they saw his body dangle, choked and lifeless.

He could've done it.

He could've gotten himself out of this mess. If only he'd controlled himself.

His flames had burned down houses, statues, and gave first degree burns to many people in the area.

What a dumbshit he was.

He'd bet his life that Suguro, Shima, and Konekomaru would be glad to see him die. They'd get front row seats, too. Right next to the Grigory.

He'd failed. He was their only chance of winning, but in the end, he turned out to be their worst enemy.

A shift in the flooring snapped him out of his thoughts. Instead of the scratchy, hallway carpet, it was sleek wood. The hand dragging him let go, banging his head on the floor and forcing him to stand up.

The crowd before him got a better look at the son of Satan. He wore a full suit, complete with a tie and shiny, black shoes. The clothes hung off of him, exposing his bony frame that had developed over the past week. Despite this, _quote,_ he was to look his best on his death day, _unquote._

The opening remarks began. Angel talked about how it was a _special _day in history. The day the son of Satan would be banned from this world. Mostly, there was applause, but Rin could see that the more serious looking people weren't joining in. More serious as in the Grigory, a few exorcists in the front row, and the exwires.

Rin stood, not listening to Angel, and bowed his head to look at his shoes. He noticed how _beautiful_ the lights reflected on his polished shoes and the wooden floor. This was ironic, too, how he could notice the beauty in every small thing just moments away from death.

One minute.

One minute until the round of applause. One minute until cries of joy and cheers echoed off the marble walls. One minute until he hung inches from the floor, unmoving.

What was today? It was a Tuesday. _Tuesday, December 26._ Just one minute until the clock struck midnight, and the fairytale that had been his life would disappear.

Angel finished his speech, and walked Rin over to the noose that hung in the center of the room. Gently, gentler than he'd ever been with Rin before, he tied a blindfold over his blue eyes and fastened the rope around his neck.

What a shame. He'd wanted to smile at Yukio, showing him that this had to be done, that this was _okay,_ but it didn't seem possible with the blindfold separating them.

Of all the things in the world, a stupid piece of velvet _cloth _was all it took to severe the twins' connection.

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds until death.

He knew this because Angel had announced it to the crowd. More shouts. More cheers. Yes, his death would _definitely_ make the world a better place.

He listened to the ticking of a clock as the stood. And he stood tall. His head was up high, his shoulders broad, and his back not in its usual slouch. He was ready. More ready than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Fifteen seconds.

He took large breaths to calm himself. This was the end, and he couldn't do _anything_ about it. Just like in Kyoto.

But this time, he didn't have to get his own hands dirty.

Five seconds.

And in those five seconds, he whispered three words to the awaiting crowd.

"Happy birthday, Yukio."

_One second._

_Ding!_

_Clunk._

"_Rin…!"_


End file.
